“Oh, keep quiet!”
“I can’t. I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it.”
“It isn’t right; it isn’t square; it’s——”
Lon heard the slap of Zorn’s hand on Hagle’s shoulder.
“Brace up, Jack! Be sensible. When luck’s running our way, make the most of it. And you don’t have to do anything—just let it run. Just because that gang happened——”
There Zorn broke off. Whether he had observed Lon and recognized him, or whether he thought he had said enough, anyway, Lon could not determine. Out of a corner of his eye, he saw Zorn leading Hagle away.
Lon got upon his feet. In very leisurely fashion he sauntered back to his car.
“I reckon I know more’n I did a while ago,” he told himself. “Still, I’d give a pooty penny to know jest what ’tis I know. Good deal like findin’ an old daguerreotype in the attic, and not bein’ sure whether it’s Uncle Simon that went to the legislater, or t’other uncle that went to jail. Guess I’ll have to do some thinkin’, but, at that, I ain’t ready to allow that I’ve altogether wasted my time this afternoon.”